


i am the heart that you call home

by 6741



Category: Holby City
Genre: Basically how many tropes can I fit into one fic?, Best Friends, F/F, Friends to Lovers, I'm going to try and fit ALL of them into one fic?, Slow Burn, Uni AU, roommate au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:06:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6741/pseuds/6741
Summary: It's their third year of medical school, and Serena McKinnie and Berenice Wolfe find themselves as roommates. Uni AU/Roommate AU.





	i am the heart that you call home

**Author's Note:**

> Rating will change. Slowburn with as many tropes as possible shoved into one fic. Probably will be about 12-14 chapters.
> 
> *Edit  
> Also I’m an idiot because I forgot to thank my beta parcequelle. I’M SORRY YOU'RE THE BEST!!!!

“How’s this?”

Serena turns around from her new dresser to find her father holding up a picture frame against the wall beside her bed.

“No, not there,” she says.

“Well then,” he says, bringing the picture frame back down from the wall. He takes a moment to study it, smiles at it affectionately. It’s a photo of her parents - Serena had snapped it on their summer holiday to the south of France last year. The lighting was just right, and her parents had looked so blissfully content. “Where will you be placing me and your mum? Into the back of the closet?”

He attempts to give her a stern look over the rim of his glasses, but Serena just rolls her eyes and yanks the picture frame from his hands.

“Right here is fine, thank you,” she says, placing the frame on top of the dresser. It’s an ugly dresser, made from the same cheap wood used on all of the dormitory furniture. Her mum had taken the disinfectant wipes, had cleaned every last crack and crevice, had lined each drawer with paper covers to make sure Serena’s clothes didn’t touch whatever else may have come in contact with the wood from previous years of use.

“Good,” he says, falling onto the bed. She scrunches her nose - he’s sitting on her clean sheets in his trousers. “This way, any boys you bring back can feel me judging them.”

“Right,” Serena mumbles, ignores the flush of heat creeping up her neck. 

One time, one time he had found a pack of condoms that Robbie accidentally left in her room. And now he teases her whenever he gets the chance. Her father is wildly supportive, shamelessly progressive, and determined to tease her wherever they are.

“Oh come now, George,” her mother tuts from the other side of the room. She stands up over a box of textbooks, clutching two in her hand. “There is no need to be crass about whomever Serena dates.”

Wouldn’t it be nice if a bolt of lightning would flash down into her room right now and end her embarrassment?

“Rena dear,” her mother says, placing the last book on the desk and folding the box, “I know you’re excited about having your own room this year. But are you sure random roommate selection was the best idea? You do have to share a kitchen and a living area.”

“It’s fine, Mum,” Serena says, swallowing the sigh that threatens to spill out. Her mum knows she hates it when she calls her Rena but does it anyway.

Serena finishes arranging the frames on her dresser, one of her parents, one of her with her grandmum. She passed away last year, but she was Serena’s favorite, had been her best cheerleader. Serena has brought a photo of Robbie, but she’s shoved that into the bottom drawer of her dresser. She’s not sure that one deserves a spot next to her family.

Her friends had teased her last year about having photos in actual picture frames, apparently such an adult thing to do. But Serena likes it. There’s something homey and grown up about it, more settled than photographs attached to the wall with desk tape.

“What if she’s a disaster? Is a partier or something?” her mum asks.

“We’ll hardly see each other. It’s not like I-- our schedules are very busy this year,” Serena says.

Third year of medical school - they’re finished with most of their academic classes, and will be spending large portions of the year in rotations. If she’s not studying for an exam, she’ll be at the hospital, trying to learn as much as she can. She won’t have time to worry about a new flatmate.

“Do you know who she is?” her dad asks, and Serena walks over to her closet, starts to pull her coats and dresses from the case and hangs them up.

“Yes, she’s a medical student too. My year, actually,” Serena says.

The university has started offering single rooms to the third, fourth, and fifth year medical students. A swanky new building, high speed internet, a gym, a pool, a small theater on the first floor. All fourth and fifth years are guaranteed a room, but only thirty slots were made available for third years. Two bedroom flats, two bathrooms in each flat. Not a bad deal. Definitely better than living in a dormitory with four people and a shared bathroom, which is where the rest of the third years have ended up. Serena doesn’t mind living away from her friends. She loves them, but she is quite finished sharing shower stalls with them.

“Oh that’s good. Do you know her well?” her mum asks, rearranging the coats that Serena has hung up. What’s the point of unpacking anything if her mum is going to redo it all? She plops down on the bed next to her dad and silently admits defeat.

“No. I’ve seen her around, but we haven’t got a lot of friends in common,” Serena says.

She’s heard of Berenice Wolfe. Smart as a whip, doesn’t suffer fools, but also a bit of a loner. She’s heard Berenice is also at the top of their class, absolutely killing the curve for all of their exams. Raf had joked in Physiology last year that Serena needs to watch her back if she wants to graduate first in their class, that Berenice Wolfe might give her a good run for her money. Serena had responded by whacking him with her notebook.

“Yes, but what if she’s bollocks? Your flatmate your first year was a complete nightmare,” her dad says.

Serena chuckles a little bit at the memory. The girl had been dreadful, a medical student more determined to sleep her way through their faculty list than actually study for exams. Serena hopes she fails out - she’s not sure she’d want someone like that to ever attend to one of her loved ones. But it wasn’t even that. She would often wake up to random guys wandering around their room, barely dressed. It’s not even the number of men; Serena likes to think of herself as a through and through feminist. She’d just wished she hadn’t been present for so many of the fornicating sessions.

“I know, but we’re not actually sharing a room this time. I get my own four walls,” Serena says, raising her hands and gesturing at the four walls like she’s placing a painting on display. 

“No need to be sarcastic. It’s not becoming,” her mum lectures, hanging up the last of her coats, and Serena turns with wide eyes to her dad, who is chuckling into his mobile. “And George, you never know. Maybe Serena will be lucky this year. Maybe this flatmate will be a good studymate.”

She hangs the last of her coats, and then opens up Serena’s drawers and starts to rearrange the clothes Serena had organized.

“Mum,” Serena whines, sliding the drawers shut.

“It’s a mess, Serena. Your socks should not be in the same drawer as your pajamas,” her mum says.

“Oh, leave the girl be. You know she’ll rearrange things the way she wants when we leave,” her dad says, still staring into his mobile.

“Dad’s right you know,” Serena says, and her mum sighs, exasperated. She doesn’t think her mum will ever be satisfied with the way she arranges her rooms, or her life. 

It takes another hour of unpacking before her room looks liveable. She doesn’t have much - her clothes, her books, the kitchen knick-knacks she picked out with her mum last week. She started cooking more last year, when she learned just how unhealthy the cafeteria food was.

Her parents insist on going out for dinner - a final farewell meal before they head back home and Serena starts her term. It’s practically a tradition at this point. They pick a small Italian bistro down the street, one too expensive for students, often frequented by the deans and professors. They’ve been before - Mum really likes their wine selection.

They’re halfway through dinner when her mum finally asks about Robbie. If Serena weren’t so annoyed, she would be impressed, really, that her mum managed to wait this long before giving in and asking.

“You haven’t heard from him recently?” she asks, averting her gaze to her bowl of pasta.

Serena sighs and leans back in her chair, catches her dad smirking into his lasagna.

“I hear he’s doing just fine, Mum.”

“You don’t stay in touch?” 

“We broke up six months ago!” Serena almost shouts, quiets her voice on the last syllable when her mum looks up in surprise at her exclamation.

She just won’t give up, about Serena and her dating life. Serena thought she would be spared, at least until she was finished with her training, before her mum would start lecturing her about settling down. She had been naive.

“Oh come on, Adrienne, she’s so busy studying,” her father chimes in, and Serena sends him a quick glance of gratitude. 

“Well the girl needs to socialize too, you know. Being a doctor isn’t all there is to life,” she says, downing the glass of red. Serena has always loved the Shiraz, but her mum, she’s a cabernet woman.

“Of course,” Serena mumbles.

“George, I’m sure she’ll want to get married and have children. Don’t you dear?” her mum asks, her voice lilting in that ever so irritating I-know-best universal mum tone, and Serena just sighs.

“One day, mum. But, not now,” Serena mutters.

After Edward, she’s determined not to fall into another serious relationship, at least for a while. He had managed to spend their entire relationship making her feel bad about herself while she continued to be his emotional crutch. She is done. And with Robbie, well, honestly, she’s just too busy with her studies.

“Plus, don’t you want grandchildren, George?” her mum asks, giving him a pointed look and a raise of the eyebrow, and her dad just chuckles and pats her mum on the arm.

It’s unfair, really, for her parents to have only had one child and then expected Serena to carry all of their hopes and expectations, for Serena to be the sole recipient of her mum’s criticisms.

“So, what rotations will be on this year?” her dad asks, wisely steering the conversation away from her dating life, and Serena sighs in relief and feels herself smile.

“I’m on three surgical ones and some some general medicine ones,” Serena says, rattling off about her work.

Serena was one of the two third-years who had managed to snag a pediatric surgical rotation, had beat out most of her class for that spot. She had been so ecstatic when she learned she had been chosen for that placement, but all Robbie had done was shrug and mutter a  _ That’s great darling _ while continuing his game of Call of Duty. Later, he didn’t even remember to ask what Serena had talked about.

One of the reasons they didn’t work. 

He’s in his final year, studying criminology. Sometimes she still sees him around campus, but they run in such different circles that it’s hardly a problem. He thinks he might want to become a police officer, and apparently Serena studies too much for his liking. She’s only ever had two boyfriends in her short life, but somehow she’s already exhausted by all of it.

Maybe she really won’t need someone. She’s perfectly happy being alone with her medicine. She’s determined to survive her surgical training, climb her way to the top, and if her love life takes a backseat due to that, then so be it.

The rest of dinner is innocuous enough, with her parents discussing the new renovations they’re doing to the house, a new sewing room for mum, a new woodworking shop for her father. He had built her mum all new tables for her sewing things this summer. They’re also planning to redo the kitchen, and while they drone on about tile patterns and cabinet colors, Serena’s mind wanders off to her courses, spends the rest of the dinner organizing her weekly schedule for the term.

She walks her parents to the train station - it’s only a fifteen minute walk from her new flat - waves from the platform as the train chugs away, puffing smoke for good cheer. 

She wanders down the streets, stops occasionally to say hello to classmates who have also come back for the school year. It’s mid-August, and the weather has cooled considerably faster this year than previous years. She tugs the cardigan around her more tightly and makes her way back to the flat.

It’s already her third year, though it hardly feels like any time has gone by. She’s been so busy studying it’s hard to imagine the world has continued to turn the past two years. She’s glad her parents came up again this year, helped her move in. Her mum has finally stopped crying every time they say goodbye at the train station. Not that home is all that far. Two hours by train, and Serena has never missed a holiday. 

She passes by the coffee shop near her flat. She’s never really set foot in it. Given how much coffee she guzzles on a daily basis, it just made more economical sense to invest in a coffee machine. But the coffee shop is practically an institution in and of itself at this point. There is a legend about this shop. It’s apparently a hub of love and matchmaking, has been for decades. The current Dean of Studies is married to the University President, and legend has it they met at this coffee shop when they were attending university here. Maybe there’s something in the water they use. 

Serena chuckles to herself and marches on. People and their ridiculous ideals of romance. People are inherently flawed and expecting perfection in a relationship with flawed subjects is like throwing a first year med student in to lead a trauma surgery and expecting the patient to live. The parameters just aren’t designed for that outcome.

Not that she doesn't indulge in her fair share of ridiculous romance media. Shows, books. Her guilty pleasure, she likes to tell herself; a distraction from all of the hair pulling that accompanies studying. Truth is, after eight hours of staring at a medical textbook, she doesn’t want to use her brain. She just wants to shut down and consume mindless media, even crappy medical dramas that are mostly about people having sex in the on call rooms.

She drags her feet up the stairs into the lobby, and then swipes her keycard. The building is new, and the lift has one of those anti-gravity features that’s supposed to make the riders not feel any movement. It just makes her feel a little sick. It moves so smoothly it doesn’t even feel like it’s moving, but then it zips ahead and it feels like her body has been jolted upwards while her organs are still sitting in the lobby.

When she unlocks the front door to her flat, she rams her toe into a large box sitting right in front of the door.

“Bloody hell!” she yells, hopping on her good foot, when the living room lights turn on and a whir of blonde hair whizzes by her.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry!” someone exclaims, and Serena stops bouncing about to see Berenice Wolfe leaning down and huffing as she picks up what appears to be a very heavy box in one easy swoop. 

“What have you got in there? Rocks?” Serena asks.

“Sorry, just books,” Berenice says, walking left towards her room and Serena hears a loud thud - probably Berenice dropping the box.

She reappears in her bedroom doorway, and Serena has the chance to actually see her face. Yup, Berenice Wolfe. She’s seen her around campus, but never seen her up close before. She’s much taller in person, definitely much skinnier, and legs that go on for miles.

She pushes her bangs to the side and quietly murmurs another apology.

“Not the best way to make a first impression,” she says, and Serena finds herself warmed by her shyness. Berenice Wolfe, football player extraordinaire, smart as a whip and a wit that scathes even the toughest, and apparently, timid as a mouse. “Is your foot okay?”

“Yes, yes, not to worry. Hi, I’m Serena,” she says, extending a hand. No need to get off on the wrong foot, well, so to speak. “You’re Berenice, right?”

“Oh, no,” she says shaking her head, and Serena’s eyes grow wide. “No, I mean, yes, I’m Berenice, but just Bernie is fine,” she says, taking Serena’s hand, a quick firm shake before she lets go. 

“Do you need any help moving in?” Serena asks.

“No, no, I think I got everything,” Bernie says.

Except, well, there really isn’t much. Serena can see into Bernie’s room - she’s got even less than Serena. Just a few boxes and a case or two. Not much else. And nothing for the common area, it seems.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring any kitchenware,” Bernie says, tying her hair up. She’s got on a tank top, and Serena notices the way her arm muscles tighten as she brings some order to her wild mane. “I was thinking of running to the shop this weekend.”

“I, um, I think I’ve brought all of the essentials. Feel free to use whatever you need,” she says.

“And the, um,” Bernie says, pointing to the couch. It’s supplied by the university, but they’re responsible for everything else. “Maybe some cushions. I could get them if you want, since you brought the kitchenware.”

“Oh, actually, I think my mum’s packed a few of those as well,” Serena says.

“Oh, okay, um, thank you,” Bernie says.

“Are your parents still here or--?” Serena asks, looking around at a visibly unoccupied flat.

“Oh, no, they didn’t come down. Both busy,” Bernie says, shoving her hands into the pocket of her jeans.

Ah, Serena knows that look. A few of her flatmates last year had that same look, when she had learned that not all parents are like her own, present and supportive to the brink of overbearing. Some parents will help their kids move in, buy them dinner, call and make sure they’re doing well. Others leave their children to fend for themselves.

“Oh, okay,” Serena says as cheerfully as she can. “Um, well, third year, it’s, uh, crazy, right?”

She’s usually so much better at this small talk thing, having been well trained by her mother, but she finds herself stumbling.

“Yes, busy year,” Bernie says with a small smile. Well, not the most riveting conversation partner. 

“Okay,” Serena says, clasps her hands together. “Since we’re going to be flatmates, I guess we should talk about rules.”

“Right,” Bernie says.

“Any particular needs or demands?” Serena asks.

“Um, not really,” Bernie says, leaning against her door frame. “You?”

“Oh, well, not really. We’ve got our separate rooms, so I don’t imagine we’ll have much trouble. But, um, I would appreciate if you didn’t throw any parties or blast any music?”

“Oh,” Bernie says, chuckling a little, and Serena can’t tell if she should be offended. “No, um, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m not much of a partier,” Bernie says. “What about you?”

“I’m afraid I spend most of my free time in the library,” Serena says.

“Right. If I’m not in class, I’ll probably just be in the lab,” Bernie says. “I don’t sleep the most regular hours, but I promise to be quiet if I’m up late.”

“Okay, fantastic,” Serena says. “So, um, have you eaten dinner yet?”

“Oh, no, haven’t had the chance,” Bernie says, glancing down at her watch. “Oh, goodness, it’s late.”

“Will you be okay getting food? We haven’t got any here yet,” Serena asks.

“I’ll just pop over to the dining hall,” Bernie says.

“I figured I’d stop by the grocer’s tomorrow,” Serena says. “If you want anything, or want to go…”

“Actually, I’ve got a car. If you want me to drive, we can go together,” Bernie says.

“Oh, great. Maybe in the afternoon, after classes,” Serena says, and Bernie nods. “Okay, well, let me know if you need help unpacking. I’m almost done,” Serena says.

“Thanks,” Bernie says, gives her a little wave and heads back to her room, closes the door.

Well then.

In a way, Serena is almost relieved. Living with her friends last year had been fun, but also chaotic and distracting. She could never find a moment alone to breathe, her bedroom practically a revolving door of friends, classmates, committee co-chairs, and endless gossip. She could use a break from it all. Now that she has her own flat, well almost her own flat, if she wants to socialize, she can just walk down the street to Raf’s, where he’s shacked up with three other people.

She closes the door behind her and reaches for the last box of books sitting by her desk. Third year is going to be busy, and she could do with some peace and quiet. 

****

Bernie hangs the last of her coats in her closet, slides the door closed and sighs.

Serena has gone into her room and hasn’t re-emerged, and frankly, she’s glad. Small talk is all great and wonderful, but she’s so spent from being in the lab all day and then lugging all of her stuff over from her sublet. She could do with a break.

She also doesn’t want to answer any questions about her family. Not that she has anything to hide. But she hadn’t really bothered to go home at all this summer, except for the few days right at the end of last term. She’d been so busy working in the lab she hadn’t had time for much else. She had managed to pack all of her things and fit them all into her little car, bring them over to her new place in under an hour.

Not that either of her parents missed her much, she thinks. Her brothers all went home for the summer break, and she thinks the house staff were busy enough caring for them.

Going home for the summer had also meant having to see Marcus again, and after their break-up, well, he’s claimed ownership of all of their friends from secondary school.

He can have them all, for all Bernie cares. They only ever tolerated her because she was Marcus’s girlfriend. Even in primary school, Marcus had always been the popular one, with an entourage of friends following him wherever he went. Bernie never knew why he had stayed friends with her all of those years. But she had been included in his social circles because of their friendship, and later, their romantic relationship. Half of his female friends hadn’t spoken a word to her before she had started dating Marcus, had almost been catty with her during their relationship. They can now all fight over Marcus now for all she cares.

And after what happened with Alex, well, she can’t begrudge him his friends. He had claimed his territory, and she had decided to mark hers. He gets to their old life, the happy times they shared before each going off to separate universities. Before she cheated on him with Alex, not that he knows about that. She had deleted all of her social media accounts, had thrown herself into her work for the summer.

And Alex. She hasn’t seen her since the end of term last year, when Marcus had showed up in the middle of their dining hall and demanded to know why she had broken up with him by email. He had driven the three hours down, and she had to practically drag him out to an empty classroom so as not to cause a scene in front of her entire year.

He wanted to know why, and she didn’t know how to tell him that yes, she loved him, but she wasn’t in love with him, probably never would be. He had been her best friend, ever since primary school, and she didn’t know how to break his heart. But she hadn’t realized why she had always felt different from all of their friends until Alex had kissed her one night at a party.

And she doesn’t have to see Alex that much anymore. They still have some core classes together, but Alex is majoring in medicine, not surgery, and they’ve started branching off into their specialities. Alex had said that maybe they should take the time and space to each figure out what they wanted. And Bernie felt she owed her at least that much, even if she had spent all summer thinking about her, had spent all three months pushing away the desire to reach out, to ask how she was doing.

Bernie shoves the box with all of her personal memories into the back corner of her wardrobe, the one with pictures of her and Marcus, of her and Alex, the presents she’d received from them both. She hadn’t had the heart to throw them all out, but she didn’t know what to do with them. So now the box now sits in the back of her wardrobe.

Maybe she ought to get some posters, or print some pictures for her walls. But she doesn’t even know what she would print pictures of.

But she rarely ever spends time in her room. She never has, even with her previous dorms. She’s only ever used it as a space to sleep, so why bother personalizing it.

She had applied for the new residence hall on the very last day the lottery was open, had been shocked when she learned she had actually won a slot, so now she has her own bathroom and one flatmate.

Serena Campbell.

Bernie’s seen her around in lectures. She’s president of the medical student association, so everybody on campus has at the very least heard of her, has gotten emails from her about the various functions run by the association for the benefit of the medical students. Bernie’s never been to any. They throw so many too, fundraisers, happy hours, holiday balls, bowling night, golf night, all involving copious amounts of alcohol. Alex had dragged her to a happy hour last year, and Bernie had spent the whole time hiding behind Alex while everybody else made small talk. The only socializing Bernie really participates in is with her football club, which is mostly drinking and yelling about footie.

She and Serena just don’t run in the same circles, not that Bernie’s been running in any circles lately. She didn’t socialize with anybody this summer. It was good for her, to take some time to be just with herself. She’d spent her whole summer in the lab or holed up in the library, trying to get ahead of the study material for this term.

She really wants that research placement next year, and if her personal life takes a nosedive, then so be it. She’s never been good at that stuff anyway. Life is usually full of disappointments, but hard work will never disappoint her.

And that research placement - it’s a prestigious spot with one of the most renowned researchers at their university. Bernie wants to get into the trauma surgery program, maybe join the RAMC. Her mother had absolutely refused to hear of Bernie joining the army as a soldier. It was fine for her father, for her brother, but apparently not for her. So joining as a medic will be her only way in. She’ll tell her mum when the time comes.

She plops onto her bed, sees that she has a missed call from her mother and a text message from her father.

_ I hope you settled in okay. Good luck with your studies this term. _

She smiles at the message. He’s never been one for words, but he’s always been there. Never a forgotten birthday, graduation, or holiday. It’s not in her family’s style to make a big deal out of anything, but her father always reminds Bernie, in small ways, that he’s thinking of her.

_ Thanks. Will do. _

She’ll call her mother back later. It’ll be an exhausting phone call anyway, just her mum nagging her again about why she broke up with Marcus. She just hasn’t understood, can’t understand why she would say no to such a nice boy from such a great family. She thinks her mother will have an apoplectic fit if she ever learns about Alex.

Bernie drops the phone on her stomach, stares up at the ceiling. Her father will be retiring in a few years. She doesn’t know what he will do when he retires from the army. Maybe he’ll become one of those men who plays golf all the time. Not that she could ever see the general playing golf.

Maybe he’ll take her mother on holidays. They can travel the world, be permanent residents on cruise ships. She almost laughs out loud at the idea of her father suggesting the idea to her mother, the way she would react to the idea of being stuck on a ship for that long. Even if they don’t travel as much, she’s sure her brothers will produce enough children to keep her parents busy.

She reaches for her lab notebook, opens up to her latest experiment. She’s not allowed to take the notebook of the lab, but PI won’t mind, as long as she’s discreet about it.

Bernie jumps when she hears a clatter outside her door, sits up when the clatter happens again. She rushes outside, finds Serena sitting on the floor surrounded by a pile of pots and pans.

“Are you okay?” she asks, and Serena just groans.

“Tape came off the bottom of the box as I was lifting it,” she says.

Bernie gathers up as many things as she can, and Serena helps.

“You’re not hurt?” Bernie asks.

“No, no,” Serena says. “Thank you.”

Bernie meets her eyes as she helps move everything to the countertop, sees the warmth in her smile, and feels a little something funny deep in her stomach. She’s barely familiar with that sensation, and the unfamiliarity of it scares her. So she shoves it down and away.

She knows Serena is one of the smartest students in their class. She managed to snag a rotation in pediatric surgery, something that doesn’t happen to any regular student. Someone claimed that Serena actually scored a 100% on a physio exam last year, something that has never been done in the history of the university.

“So, um, what courses are you signed up for?” Serena asks as she stacks the pans under the sink.

“Oh, um, the general requirements. Otherwise, just rotations,” Bernie says, handing her the pots. “What about you?”

“Same,” Serena says.

“Yes, the pediatric rotation, I heard,” Bernie says. “Congratulations.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she says.

“Not nothing! Some years, they don’t take any medical students!” Bernie exclaims, and Serena smiles. It’s nice when someone actually understands her accomplishments. She loves her parents, but neither of them are doctors and sometimes she doesn’t think they really understand.

“Well,” Serena says, blushing. “What about you? What rotations are you on?”

“For surgery, just trauma and general surgery,” Bernie says.

“Well, congratulations about the trauma! I didn’t even know they accepted third years in that rotation,” Serena says.

“Well, normally they don’t,” Bernie says and shrugs.

She had slaved away long and hard hours in the trauma consultant’s lab to earn that position, had pissed off quite a few fourth years by snagging a spot normally reserved for them.

They finish stacking up the rest of the kitchen, talking about various professors, Bernie briefly talking about her lab work.

But they finish, and Bernie’s stomach growls. Serena gives her an arched eyebrow, one that defies the laws of gravity. Bernie didn’t even know it was possible for eyebrows to climb so high.

“I’ll, um, I’ll run to the dining hall before it closes,” she says, looking down at her watch and realizing they’ve almost spent an hour organizing the kitchen and living area, chatting about school.

“Alright,” Serena says.

Bernie goes to her room to grab her jacket, the leather one, and leaves the dorm room with a smile on her face. It feels odd, using those muscles for the first time in months, to speak to an actual human being again about something other than PCRs and western blots.

She shoves her hands into her pockets as she walks down the brick path towards the dining hall. The sun has set, and the lamps light up the paths in a warm glow.

Bernie had to fight her parents tooth and nail to go to study surgery. Her mum thought maybe surgery would be too intense, wouldn’t give her the time to have a family, wouldn’t give her the time to have the kind of upper crust social life she expected of her daughter.

Bernie had run away from all of that, as far as her feet would take her. Or rather, a plane could take her. She had finished secondary school, had taken a year to go volunteer with the UN. Had nearly given her mother a heart attack when she announced it.

Medical school is the first place Bernie has ever felt like she can breathe, a place away from the stuffiness of home, away from the ghosts of her childhood, the expectations of her parents. It’s where she had met Alex, had started answering the questions she didn’t know to ask.

Third year is going to be hellishly busy, but her career is on track. And really, that’s all that matters at the end of the day. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
